Hey Baby
by MarySuePerfect
Summary: Garret doesn't know quite what made him decide to do this...


A/N-This is a straight up fluffy thing...And this is what happens when you take a band geek and throw them into the world of CJ. Because well, I have this mental image of Garret wearing only jeans and a set of quad drums...yummy. Really yummy. Anyway, do enjoy this. And I don't own anyone. Even Eric and Steve are part of my marching band...along with all the unconvetionalisms and the fact that drumline can't dance...

* * *

"Hey, you want to go grab a bite to eat?" She appeared at the door. He wanted to. He really did.

"I can't." He frowned. He didn't know how Eric had roped him into this. Only that for some strange reason he had agreed. Maybe it was some philanthropist hidden deep down inside of him that said it was a good idea to help and spend eight hours a week with a bunch of high school students, or maybe it was his inner masochist.

"Big date?" He shook his head.

"I wish. I promised a friend I'd help him out." He was wishing Eric were a mortal enemy at this point though; the kids were driving him insane. They were nice enough, and fairly well behaved, but he now thought anyone who wanted to be a high school teacher to be clinically insane. Eight hours was his limit.

"Oh really? With what?" He didn't want to tell her, she'd do nothing but tease him about it for the rest of his life.

"Music stuff." That worked. It was the truth. It involved music.

"Oh really? Does this mean I get to hear you bang on the drums?" he shook his head.

"No." he looked at the clock he had to be there in half an hour. "And I have to go." He got up and started for the door.

"So what exactly is it?" He shrugged.

"Complicated." He walked out the door leaving her with a smirk on her face as he got into his car and drove.

He squared his shoulders and walked in faking looking like he wanted to be there. It really wasn't so bad. It would be better if the kids had enough rhythm to move and play at the same time. He dumped his jacket in Eric's office, enjoying the slight shelter from the storm of teenagers that were in the main room playing loudly.

"Hey." Eric said, leaning back in the office chair. He sat down in another chair.

"Remind me again why I agreed to this?" I asked and he grinned.

"Because deep down inside you still are a band geek and want to pass on your geekiness to the current generation?" I shook my head.

"That's you. I never really was a band geek. Just in the band." Eric laughed.

"You used the band room as a hangout, you dated a band chick, you can still march an eight to five step without thought, you are a band geek. You were DCI, that is the ultimate in band geek" He frowned. He hated that term, he had hated it when he was one, he hated it now. "Awe, c'mon Garret, fine, you're a drummer. Drumline is apparently now cooler than the rest of the band since that movie; does that make you feel better?" He grinned. He was only here because of the other man.

"I still really should go see a shrink to see what possessed me to do something as self loathing as this."

"Hey, I need the shrink, this is my career." Eric walked out and flicked the lights, all the playing immediately ceased. He followed the shorter man out and down to the field, looking at the congregation of drummers there.

He took his familiar perch up in the stands while Eric ran through the movements. That wasn't his realm. Sure, if need be, he could do all the moves. However, he was only here out of a commitment to a friend. He had enjoyed his time when he was younger, but he was older now, he hardly even played anymore.

At least the drummers had the moves down. As well as drummers ever did. He remembered what it was like, and knew that it was harder than it looked to move with one of those things on you, he never did a bad job of it. These kids were pitiful at best. Everyone when he was one of them had been good; it seemed that rhythm was something that seemed to fade through every generation.

Even the snare drummer that was supposed to click off the march could barely keep that an even tempo. And these were supposed to be the ones to keep the rhythm of the band. He had given up on them though, they were a lost cause, he did the best he could do and that wasn't enough. He saw Eric motioning to him and he grudgingly hopped the fence and came down.

It was incredibly pathetic that half the band wound up out of drilldowns at the second command, even more pathetic that the entire drumline was out by the fifth. "These kids are hopeless. Get them really good at making blocks and have them play on the track. The music's the only thing that's good." The other man grinned an impishly.

"Which is why you're here; you remember shapes and forms and all that good stuff."

"Let's pretend I don't. I'm here out of the goodness of my heart-you said you wanted someone to get these drummers up to snuff drumming wise-they're there. The actual marching bit is your domain."

"Well, humor me at least by helping them set the picture. Four step triangles." He rolled his eyes at the other man, but still did as he was told, marking off the space between each person. He frowned at the way that after being unset from their positions the people had trouble finding their way back. He regretted ever agreeing to this.

He looked down at his watch. Thankfully, the rehearsal was over. Two and a half hours never seemed to drag so slowly. He hung back as Eric addressed the group before turning to him. "Right. You'll be here for the game, I hope?"

"You mean you're forcing me to be here to listen to these guys?" Eric laughed.

"Hey, you said it yourself; the music's the good part." He had to grudgingly admit that. Eric was nothing else if not untraditional. And the music selections reflected that. Rock music and seventies funk, and a constantly changing field show.

"Yes. I'll just close my eyes during the performance." Eric laughed.

"You do that. Just be there." He nodded and retreated to the school, grabbing his coat and walking out to his car. He frowned when he saw a very familiar car in the space next to his.

He walked up to the battered old El Camino and glared at her. "What the hell are you doing here?" He asked her angrily and she grinned.

"Wondering what the hell you were doing here. Wanna go grab something to eat?"

"No, I want you to go home, and I'm going to do the same thing." she laughed.

"Really? Cause I recall you saying earlier that you'd love to go get a bite to eat." He rolled his eyes.

"Quit playing with me Jordan, I want to go home, kick my feet up have a good scotch and a nice cigar." She laughed.

"So I take it you're not going to tell me why you were at a high school at five thirty in the afternoon?" He shook his head. "Why not?"

"Because it really doesn't matter why." It was then he heard one of the boys shout out behind him.

"Oh, look, Dr. Macy's got a girlfriend." He rolled his eyes at the immaturity.

"Funny, I thought he was to tightassed to have one." He looked over to find the culprit of the offending comment. "I'm just kidding Dr. M!" One of the boys called out and he sighed.

"You want dinner, you're buying me drinks." He told her and she grinned, unlocking the door for him to get in.

"I'll drive you back for your car." She told him as they drove off. "So what are you doing at a high school in the afternoon?" He shrugged.

"I promised an old friend of mine-that I'd give him a hand. He's kind of the band director and he sucks at drums, so he thought he'd try and talk me into teaching the drumline..."

"So in other words, he recruited you to be a band geek?" He frowned.

"I'm not a band geek, and I'm only doing this because Eric asked me to, I wouldn't volunteer for this, ever." She laughed.

"Right. So you're the forced band geek. This one time, at band camp-"

"Don't even go there." He said, his voice menacingly low.

"You're really uptight about this, aren't you?" She asked and he frowned as he realized that he was. "Relax, embrace your inner band, I mean, there's nothing wrong with being a musician, now is there?" She had a point.

He leaned back and let his thoughts drift him far far away from the field. He was surprised when the settled on her. They did it every so often, and he hated it every time that they did. He wasn't supposed to be attracted to his best friend, but he was. Every now and then, his mind would remind him how gorgeous she was. Every now and then, his body would remind her that she was a single, attractive female.

He looked over at her; she had that smirk on her face. And she looked incredibly good with it. He turned his attention back out the window. He wasn't going to think that, he was going to push that thought as far from his mind as it would go. Temporary lapse, that's all it was.

They pulled up in front of the small sports bar and got out. He took a deep breath and focused on something that was not Jordan, was not the pitiful band that he was forced to be associated with, what he was going to eat was something that he could focus on. He looked over the menu with a little bit more intensity than was necessary before deciding on a burger.

"So you're teaching the drummers how to drum?" She asked and he nodded. "You're qualified for this how?" He smiled slightly at the smirk on his face.

"Eight years of it myself." He confessed and she grinned.

"Really, how come I never knew this?"

"I think I've burned the pictures." She laughed. "Ugly uniforms are not fun things." He could feel his skin itch just thinking about them.

"Right. So do I get to see your handiwork." He shook his head.

"I think that would constitute as cruel and unusual punishment." She laughed again as their food came out.

"It can't be that bad. I taught guitar to six year olds through college, believe me, it can't be that bad." It was his turn to grin.

"No, it's worse." She laughed.

"How can I know if I have nothing to compare it to?"

"Why do you have some inner masochist that makes you want to go to a high school football game and watch the band?"

"I thought you're the one with the inner masochist."

"Yours must be larger if you want to go to a game." He said and she grinned. He wondered why she would want to. Aside from making fun of him, even more fodder for the cannon, that was it, that was the only reason why she was deciding to go.

"Right, so break out the whips and chains and beat me." He grinned, but only to hide the more physical reaction her comment had on him. That was not good. He wasn't supposed to react to his best friend that way. Looking at her in a different light was one thing, but this was completely different. He shifted in his chair trying to hide what she had done to him better and from the looks of it, was succeeding.

"Don't you have something better to do? Sleep? Work?" She laughed.

"I don't work tomorrow, and odds are I'll be awake. So it's a home game?" He frowned and nodded.

"So I'll go." She said as they split the bill, walking back out to her car as she drove him back to the school.

"You don't have to, you don't need to, there's no point in you going-" She laughed.

"What? And I miss the chance to see you being a band geek?" He frowned and got out of the car. He didn't want her to go.

He didn't want her to be there just to make fun of him. He didn't want the band to make fun of him for her. They were just friends, nothing more. He didn't want the kids to keep on insinuating something more. It was bad enough he considered something more, he didn't want others to consider it for him.

He climbed up the tired stairs to his loft and collapsed into a chair picking up the bottle of scotch from the cocktail table and poured himself a glass. The long slow burn felt good, it freed his mind to think of what to do about her. About what he could do to keep her away from what he was moonlighting as.

But he came up with nothing. About the only thing he could do was deal with it. Accept it for what it was. He frowned and downed another glass. Tomorrow was going to be interesting to say the least. He didn't want to think of what the kids were going to do to him over it, when the woman that they had teased him about earlier showed up to the game. And he knew that she'd sit with him, make a point of the fact that she was there with him. It would only make the teasing nearly unbearable.

He lay in his bed a long time, not wanting to sleep; sleep would only make the next day come sooner. Sleep would only hasten the time until the game. He stared at his ceiling while thoughts of her kept dancing through his head. He frowned. He was hopeless. Something inside of him had clicked; he was gone.

Something inside of him had suddenly gone off, made him realize exactly why he seemed to always rely on her, that some part of him had loved her for as long as he had known her and now that one part had suddenly reared its head and told him to obey it. Suddenly out of nowhere, he felt compelled to be attracted to her. And he hated that.

He didn't like the way she kept playing across his brain, images of her, images of what he wanted to be doing to her playing with him. Teasing him. The sound of his alarm clock broke him out of his thoughts. He wasn't entirely sure he had fallen asleep; rather he was sure he had fallen into something that was almost sleep.

He groaned and got out of the bed, stepping into the shower, letting the warm water wash over him. He didn't want this, he didn't want to be up this early, didn't want to think of seeing her. He didn't want to think of the way that she'd constantly goad him about it, about the way she'd never let him live it down.

He pulled on the outfit that he hated; he kept it in the furthest corner of the closet. When he was one of the kids, the directors merely wore a shirt that associated them with the band. Not the full uniform. Although, he had to admit, the uniform wasn't that bad. He pulled on a pair of jeans and buttoned the shirt up, before pulling on the jacket.

At least he didn't have to wear the pants that the kids wore. Looking at the full uniform on the kids made him almost miss the white wool. He got into his car with growing apprehension as he pulled into the parking lot, cup of coffee that he had grabbed on his way in hand. He looked over the scattered amount of people already there. "Hey Doc, where's your girlfriend?" He glared at the boy, the same one that had previously called him a tightass.

"She is not my girlfriend, and if you don't watch it you'll be suspended for the rest of your high school career." The boy merely grinned impishly back. He collapsed in a chair in Eric's office, wishing the game would already be over.

"So what's this about a girlfriend?" Eric asked as he walked in.

"It's Jordan, she's not my girlfriend, she's a friend." The other man laughed.

"And I'm the Great Vinzini, right." He rolled his eyes. "You said that with remorse Gar, as if you wish you were something more-" He glared at the smaller man.

"Don't even start. You start; I'm leaving, screw the drumline." Eric laughed again.

"And you just proved what I thought. We're not all as lucky as I am-" The man flashed his left hand and the wedding ring on it. "-But hey, go for it." He shook his head.

"I'm not going for it, we're friends. Nothing else." Eric simply shook his head.

"Right. Well, you talk yourself into believing that, it's time to warm up and get out onto the field." He simply walked out of the room and down to the field, taking his familiar place at the top of the stands, behind the band. He frowned when he saw her and acted as if he didn't notice her at all.

That was quickly stopped when she sat down next to him. "I told you not to come." He said and she laughed.

"And how could I not. I love the look by the way." He glared at her and the teasing grin on her face. He didn't know who he wanted to murder more, her or Eric. He frowned as the band started heading up the stands.

"Awe, how cute, its doc and his girlfriend."

"Steve, I already warned you." He all but growled at the boy who merely laughed back.

"Hey man, chill out." He was ready to tear the boy's throat out when Steve mouthed the words "Screw him" to Jordan while pointing at him. Jordan merely laughed at it while he fought the urge to toss the boy off the top of the bleachers.

"Glad to see the band is so interested in your well being." She teased and he rolled his eyes, getting up for the national anthem, wincing at the way that even after hours worth of practice the snare drummers still couldn't start a roll all together.

"They're only interested in their own well being."

"Do you blame them?" He frowned and half-payed attention the game. They were slaughtering the other team; it didn't matter. The band was busy playing and he was busy commenting on everything that the drummers were doing wrong that he had spent countless rehearsals trying to fix. She gave a cough that sounded vaguely like "anal retentive" after he corrected one of the drummers on something.

"I am not anal retentive." He complained and she laughed.

"And I'm a model employee." He glared at her. She was looking too-he couldn't quite think of a word to describe it. He would say cute, but that wasn't quite it. She was wearing a BU sweatshirt and jeans, looking very much like she fit in with the crowd and she looked-good. That was the only word he could think of. Good.

He wanted to lean in and kiss her, he wanted to do something, but couldn't. He all but groaned as he watched half the males in the band all leave the stands, going down and hopping the fence onto the track. It was the cheesiest thing he had ever seen, but most of the crowd seemed to love it. And from the looks of it, she was finding it amusing too. "That's so sweet." She gushed and he rolled his eyes. "Awe, stop being such a miserable old man. I bet you were one of those guys who went down to sing to the cheerleaders when you were one of them."

She had him there. He had been one of those guys. He would've been the one to lead the others down to start a rousing round of Hey Baby. So he really couldn't fault them. But he was older now, he was allowed to think it dumb and pointless and cheesy now. The same way he was allowed to think his fashion statements of the time were dumb and pointless.

At least the field show didn't go as badly as he thought it would. He was expecting disaster; it actually came out decently. He was too distracted to really pay much attention to the rest of the game though. She was far too close to him for comfort, he was so aware of her presence.

The second the game was over, he was on his feet, ready to leave, ready to go, get away from her. He felt better once he was away from her, his body wasn't screaming at him quite as much to just get over what his brain was telling her and jump her bones right there. He stopped by Eric's office and was greeted by the other man grinning at him. "She's pretty." The other man said. "Not just pretty, hot. What's stopping you from dating her?"

"Try she's my best friend. And nothing else." The other man laughed.

"You got it bad. I see it, the band sees it, the only two who don't are you and her." The other man cleared his throat and began to sing "Listen boy I don't wanna see you let a good thing slip away..."

"Thank you Billy." He replied and the other man laughed.

"Tell her about it though. Just confess, it can't hurt, can it?"

"Yes, it can." He replied, sliding out the door, leaving the other man grinning.

He got into his car and drove home, collapsing on his bed, exhausted. He didn't want to have to face the kids again. He didn't want to have to face Jordan again. He had the rest of the weekend alone, but that wasn't enough. He wanted never to see them again. He laughed at the way that she had gotten to him so badly he was starting to consider her way of dealing with problems-running from them.

He sighed. He was hopelessly gone. Every time he did anything, he thought of her. And what she was doing. And how she'd do what he was doing. Anything, everything. He wanted to squash whatever part of his brain had thought it would be a good idea to fall in love with Jordan Cavanaugh because part of his brain had decided it and that part had been very insubordinate.

He spent the whole weekend in that same loop. Thinking of her, and hating himself for thinking of her. Thinking of her, and hating himself for being in love with her. He didn't want to love her, he wanted her only to be a friend, but his heart had other plans, his heart wanted him to love her.

It wasn't as if there was anything standing in his way anymore, Woody was out of the picture, nothing to worry about there. Woody had left her high and dry, her last relationship had been to his knowledge barely more than a fling, she hadn't loved since Woody. She wasn't in love with anyone now, not that he knew of.

Monday came entirely too soon. He got lucky and managed to survive the day in his office, doing paperwork, avoiding her. Because whenever he had paperwork, she avoided him for fear that, he'd make her do her own. She stopped by twice though, taking great pleasure in calling him "little drummer boy" He was ready to kill her by the end of the day.

"Heading off to be band geek of the year again?" He glared at her.

"Unfortunately, yes." She laughed as he walked out, the sound of it ringing pleasantly in his ears. He hated that, he didn't like the way that she got to him like that.

He walked into the band room to the odd assortment of sound of multiple songs being played at the same time. "Hey Doc, where's your girlfriend?" He glared at the boy.

"I told you-"

"I'll take her then." The boy said and he glared at the boy.

"See?" He glared even harder at the boy, the boy wasn't supposed to point out his feelings. His feelings were just that, his. He didn't need someone else to point them out to him. He rounded up the drummers and attempted to get the parts down for the song for the tenth time. Finally giving up before the end of the rehearsal, sitting in the chair in Eric's office for almost fifteen minutes, listening the drummers play the same groove slightly off more times than he wanted to before finally getting sick of it, getting up and walking out.

He climbed into his car and turned it on to find it sputter and stop. He tried it again, and it sputtered and stopped. He groaned. He reached for his phone and called for a tow truck as Eric appeared. "Car die?" He nodded.

"Too bad. Rehearsal's running late-" He shook his head.

"They're hopeless, I quit." Eric laughed.

"Hey, you helped, a little." He frowned s the tow truck pulled up. The mechanic got out and looked over the engine.

"You ain't driving this thing for at least two days; something went pretty damn wrong in there." The mechanic told him, as he watched his car being pulled up onto the bed of the truck. He frowned. He was hoping it would be something simple, get it fixed right there and drive home. He reached for his phone again. He didn't want to call her, not here. But he did anyway.

He failed to notice the smirk on Eric's face as he leaned against the side of the building. He groaned as the entire band came out and started marching through the parking lot. He didn't want to have to listen to them right now. But he was forced to while he waited to see the familiar El Camino pull up. He was ready to physically injure Steve as the boy ran up to her car window and told her something as he walked up, but the boy scurried away far too fast for him, back to the band.

He groaned as he heard the familiar bass line come in, he thought it had just been one of the basses goofing off until he realized that half the band was playing and he looked up to see Eric and Steve grinning. "No." He growled, and the two just laughed even more as the band went through the song once playing before they all moved forward.

"I'm going to kill you. Both of you." He said as he felt color rise up into his face, even he was unsure if it was embarrassment or anger as the band started to sing. "Hey, hey baby he wants to know-"

"If you all want to live-" He screamed over top of them but they all just grinned more broadly.

"Would you be his girl?" He looked at her, she was busy laughing, a somewhat shocked grin on her face. His hands were clenched into tight fists. He was ready to kill someone. He could get away with killing someone. He could pull it off and not get caught. He didn't notice her get out of her car. He didn't notice her coming up to him.

When her lips pressed against his it shocked him out of the anger. He smiled, leaning into the kiss, ignoring the racket that the kids behind him were making, it felt far too good. "Yes drummer boy." She said against his lips as they finally broke the kiss.

Eric came up to him, a sheepish grin on his face as he pulled out his wallet. "This should cover what we did to your car-it's nothing serious, but..." He glared at the other man.

"You wrecked my car?"

"I didn't wreck it. I just fiddled with-something." The other man had a broad grin on his face though. "It should get fixed, if this doesn't cover it, I'll pay you more." He shook his head.

"It's fine. Although I can't say I thought your prank was funny-" He felt an arm wrap around his waist.

"Relax you, quit being so negative." She said kissing him gently. He felt himself grin despite himself. Maybe the band wasn't entirely bad after all.


End file.
